


Shut Up, Mulder

by foxmulderpeggingrights



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angry Sex, F/M, Femdom, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Pegging, Strap-Ons, light cumplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27960881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxmulderpeggingrights/pseuds/foxmulderpeggingrights
Summary: After a long two weeks of getting screwed over by her partner, Dana Scully returns the favor.
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Shut Up, Mulder

It was 11:38 p.m. on a Saturday and it was the first time in more than a week that Dana Scully had been home. She had retrieved mongrel Queequeg from her mother, sorted through the mail (all junk), and taken a good, long shower. Now she was finally in her own glorious bed, with its high thread count rose gold sheets, its abundance of pillows, its embryonic embrace, and she could finally do what interstate car chases, twelve hour autopsies, and pest-ridden motel rooms had prevented her from doing: masturbate. She let her bathrobe fall from her delicate shoulders and laid herself down in bed. Images of the stunningly handsome sheriff they had worked with came to mind as she fished through her nightstand for tonight’s companion. Her fingers found their place between her thighs. She started slow, tension ebbing from her shoulders as she delicately rubbed her clit. Her dildo was held poised, ready to enter as soon as she was ready, and she would be ready very soon. Heat climbed up from her groin, through her stomach, to her breasts as the stiffness in her vertebra disappeared. Scully surrendered herself to pleasure, slowly sliding the toy into herself and-  
Brrrrreeet  
“You have to be kidding me.” Panting, she gave herself a moment to cool down before finding her bathrobe and leaving her glorious bed to see who was at her door this late. She stood on the threshold of her bedroom and looked back into it. She considered hiding her dildo. Instead, she grabbed her gun. Her hand around the imposing sig-sauer pistol, she sidled over to the door and looked through the spyglass there. “You have to be kidding me,” she repeated.   
She undid the bolt on her door but left the chain on.  
“What the hell do you want?” She asked through the four inch crack she’d opened.  
“Heya, Scully,” said Fox Mulder with typical nonchalance. “Something’s not adding up to me about the Santa Clara case.”  
“Mulder, it’s midnight on a Saturday. Can this wait?” Scully said. Her finger itched on her handgun.  
“Are you busy?” He asked.  
“As a matter of fact, I am,” Scully said.  
“Doing what?” Mulder asked. Scully stared at him.  
“Fine,” she said, undoing the chain. “Fine,” she repeated. “Five minutes. I’m tired, Mulder. You have five minutes to explain what’s so important that it couldn’t wait until Monday, or at least until daylight.”  
Mulder slid into her apartment with typical spookiness, casting his inquisitive glare around the apartment, needlessly investigating as a matter of habit. Before Scully had ever met Fox Mulder, and had read his personnel file, with its glowing reports of his intellect and pre-X-files career--not to mention the cutting good looks on display in his headshot--she wondered how he got his misanthropic reputation. It took about three seconds of knowing the man to realize every single thing he did was deeply rude and obnoxious.  
“Nice robe,” he muttered. Scully drew it tighter around herself, hoping her nudity beneath it wasn’t obvious and unaware how it showed off her curves. “You got any food?”  
Before Scully could answer, Mulder was traipsing off to the kitchen. “I haven’t been home in almost ten days,” she called after him. “Everything’s gone bad.”  
“I’ll just grab a beer then,” he called out.  
“Wait, Mulder, that’s not the-” Scully cried, trying to stop him before he opened her bedroom door.  
“Oh, Scully, what do we have here!” Mulder chuckled and backed up into the hall, closing her door behind him. “Don’t worry, this stays between you, me, and big purple back there.”  
Scully bit the inside of her cheek and tried to remember what the shrink she had seen for a few weeks after her sister’s death had said about managing her emotions. Then she remembered she stopped seeing him because he was a chauvinist, Freudian quack.  
“It is the middle of the night, Mulder, and it is the first time I’ve had to myself since we left on your last ridiculous X-file non-case,” she said. She tossed her gun onto the couch. Having it in her hand could prove dangerous if Mulder didn’t let up soon. “I have spent the past week and a half traipsing through cornfields, cutting open rotted corpses, getting shot at, and most likely being lied to by an entire town of people. I have been covered in mud, blood, ash, cow shit, human shit, and god knows what else. If you don’t have a good reason for showing up at my house unannounced then I am marching into Skinner’s office first thing Monday morning and requesting a transfer, and if a transfer isn’t available then I’m taking indefinite leave until they can find me a new partner who was born with a sense of decency. So what is it that isn’t adding up and is so vital that it has to be discussed right now?”  
Pathetic Queequeg whimpered. You said it, buddy, Mulder thought. “Alright, I can see I’ve come at a bad time,” Mulder said, desperately trying to remember the scant half-ounce of conflict resolution his WASP parents had taught him and his sister when she was still around to fight with. “I’ll just leave, and we can discuss this another time.”  
“Oh no, you don’t.” For someone nearly a foot shorter than him, Scully sure could move fast. In the blink of an eye she was between him and the door. “You’ve already ruined my evening, so make it worth it.” Scully’s heart was beating a rapid tempo and her cheeks were turning flush. In all the years working with insufferable Fox Mulder, the FBI’s least wanted for a very good reason, she had managed to only blow up at him a handful of times. None of those times had involved her being barely dressed and blueballed. She tried to manage her breathing and keep her wires from crossing.  
“Well,” Mulder sat on the arm of her couch, facing her. “We thought we were dealing with some sort of vampire-”  
“You thought,” Scully corrected.  
“Sure. But I’ve been reviewing the details of the case. I thought the discrepancies were just that: minor variations in the expected pattern of behavior for something like a vampire. The lore is so vast and diverse, from the Albanian shtriga to the Chinese jiangshi to the English vampyre, that some individuality is to be expected. But what we’re looking at is a completely different set of behaviors.”  
“That’s because we’re not dealing with a vampire, or a shtriga or jiangshi or anything like that,” Scully said. “The killer was a human being, Mulder. A very sick, twisted human, but a human all the same.”  
“Then how do you explain how he got the body into the rafters of that barn? Or how Mrs. Mayberry’s body was drained completely of blood despite no visible punctures?”  
“I don’t know, Mulder. Clearly our killer has a fascination with anatomy and morbidity. Maybe he’s some kind of scientist or doctor, and has access to sophisticated tools. Maybe he even has help. A death cult, perhaps. Plus, Mrs. Mayberry was hemophiliac. It’s very possible a small, well-placed syringe could have done what we saw.”  
“You’re being ridiculous,” Mulder laughed. “I saw your face when we examined her body. It was nothing you had ever seen before.”  
“You know, you have a lot of nerve barging into my house like you own the place, calling me names, and trying to tell me what I thought.” Scully took an impetuous step towards Mulder, getting in his face.  
“After seeing the things we’ve seen, investigating dozens of X-files, and might I add getting abducted by aliens yourself at least twice, you’ve got a lot of nerve pretending I’m just some crackpot.” Mulder held his ground, crossing his arms and keeping his gaze level with hers. Scully was more intimidating than he liked to admit but this was The Truth they were talking about now, and he would stare down any fire to find it.   
“Abducted by aliens? So we’re just going to edit my life to fit your conspiracy theories?”   
“I saw them take you, Scully. I saw you disappear in a flash of light on Skyland Mountain. I pulled you out of a UFO in the antarctic. I watched it fly away!”  
“You saw what you wanted to see,” she bit back. “You always do. You change reality to fit your narrative.”  
“You have to be kidding me!” Mulder threw his hands up, exasperated.  
“You’re a narcissistic boar with a diminished sense of empathy.” She leaned forward, pushing closer and closer to him, ready to tear his throat out with her teeth and be done with it.  
“You’re a stubborn coward who refuses to abandon scientific orthodoxy.” Mulder didn’t give her an inch, keeping his posture calm and centered, letting her crowd him with nary a worry.  
“You’re delusional!” Scully shouted.  
“And you’re in denial!” He shot back. “You al-”   
To Fox Mulder’s surprise, he was unable to finish his sentence, primarily because Scully’s lips were suddenly on his. For a moment, Mulder saw himself from above, an out of body experience as Scully’s tongue found his. His posture was frozen mid-flight, twisted and enrapt. Then she pulled away, panting.  
“Tell me how you really feel,” Mulder said, softly chuckling.  
“Shut up and get in the bedroom,” Scully said, dismounting from her fighting stance.  
“Yes, ma’am,” Mulder said.   
“I said shut up, Mulder,” Scully said as she followed him into the bedroom.  
Mulder was in the middle of undoing his tie when Scully gently, but firmly, pushed him backward onto the bed. His breath hitched. He had rarely fantasized about this moment. Not because of any lack of attraction, but because of the opposite. It was easier to fill the emptiness of his life with the fabrications and illusions of pornography than it was to imagine something so real, something within reach and yet unreachable, something he could have one day, something he could fuck up. It was an indulgence he only allowed himself when very drunk or on long vacations. But it was happening.  
Scully’s robe slipped off of her body and onto the floor. The gentle lighting of her bedroom made her porcelain skin shimmer. The bruises and scars from a career of violence and excitement only made her more enigmatic, more alluring: damaged perfection, perfectly damaged. She mounted him on the bed, pushing his shoulders back. He was distantly aware of a not-quite clean toy a few inches from his face, but was more preoccupied by his partner undoing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with equal parts efficiency and fury. Soon his shaved swimmer’s chest was exposed and her tongue was tracing a line of fire up its center. The heat of her breasts pressed against him as her tongue found a niche between his jaw and his ear. Mulder breathed in sharply through his teeth, his body seizing with tension. Scully paused, a look of recognition and malevolence on her face. She had found what she was looking for. She continued, her warm breath and gentle nibbles attacking the weak point in Mulder’s defenses. Her hand travelled down the expanse of his torso and found purchase between his legs, his turgid member easily found through his slacks. She undid his belt and zipper and wrapped her hands around his cock, working it in slow, firm motions until she successfully coaxed a moan out of his lips. Mulder moved his arms, first testing that they still worked, that this wasn’t a dream or perhaps the afterlife. His hands ran greedily across her body, trying to absorb her, trying to learn every inch of her. Soon his pants had disappeared, he wasn’t even certain which one of them took them off, and he was laying there with his shirt open and erect cock beckoning Scully forward. She sat up, perched on his lap, and slid herself towards him. She pressed his dick against his stomach, rubbing her clit against it. From the first touch she was already wet, their bodies gliding together.   
Like Mulder, Scully had rarely imagined her socially inept partner in this way. He had always been a puzzle for her brain, heart, and pussy, each part confusing the others’ ability to solve it. Did she want to fuck him or was she just lonely and in need of some good dick? Did he repulse her or charm her? Did she want to protect or to kill him? The answer, it seemed as she held him by the wrists and crushed her lips to his in breathless agony, was all of the above. She bent her head down and put his nipple between her teeth. He rose to a sitting position and did the same, practically worshipping her breasts with a flood of kissing, licking, biting, sucking. He traced circles around her nipple with his tongue before letting his lips wrap around it. Scully took his prodigious member in her hands (that’s what he’s working with? And he spends that much time watching porn? What a waste), guiding it. Carefully, she lowered her hips, impaling herself with a shaky gasp. Mulder whispered her surname, a breathless prayer. She put her arms around his shoulders, kissing him again, tongues intertwining. Their bodies rose and fell with a syncopated polyrhythm. Two distinct meters struggled to find their synchronicity, him pushing as she pulled, her falling as he sank. Finally, they found it, and Scully’s brain exploded in a dazzle of stars with every glorious stroke of Mulder’s cock inside of her. Scully fell forward, pressing her body to Mulder’s, sweat pooling beneath them as her hips grinded against his. Something moved on the bed, and she looked up. A grin appeared on her face. Mulder recognized that look but couldn’t find his words with Scully so completely in control of him. Her hips slowed and she stopped. He raised an eyebrow as she dismounted from him. It had, admittedly, been a while but he was pretty sure she hadn’t finished yet, and he sure as hell hadn’t.   
“So,” Mulder panted, trying and failing to maintain his cool demeanor. “I stop you halfway through, you stop me halfway through? I guess that’s only fair.”  
“Get up on the bed,” Scully explained. She kneeled down in front of her nightstand, rifling through it for something he couldn’t see.  
“I’m on the bed,” Mulder said.  
“I mean get all the way on the bed. And get on your knees.” Scully pulled out some contraption of plastic, black cloth straps, and fasteners. Though Mulder’s genre of choice was more along the lines of Busty Croatian Babes Show All, he had come across this sort of thing before and could see where Scully was headed.   
“Are you trying to-” He trailed off into awkward laughter.  
“Fuck you,” Scully finished. “I’m going to fuck you.” She pulled the harness up her legs and fixed it to her thighs. The soft buzz of a bullet vibrator against her clit sent rolling waves of pleasure through her body as she placed the dildo she had planned to use on herself into the strap-on’s holster.   
Mulder’s brain was a confused mix of contradictory impulses. Should he say no? Should he get up, put his pants on and leave? Should he insist she was acting crazy, ask her to pull off that ridiculous get up and fuck her like a real man? He thought all of this as he slowly turned away from her, leaning forward onto his arms, ass high in the air. What does this say about me? He asked himself plaintively, despite his manhood trembling in anticipation, a bead of precum rolling down his shaft. Scully pumped a dollop of lube into her palm, thoroughly coating the fake phallus. She climbed onto the bed behind him and pressed her hips into him, the dildo pressed against his undercarriage. Her ghostly white hand traced down his back, producing a shiver and a moan. Testing the waters, she probed at his asshole with a lubed up finger. She felt his muscles tense and relax as his breath quickened. She pushed a little, entering him. A moan escaped his lips. She worked her slender finger in and out of him, just up to the first knuckle, then gradually to the second, gradually more until her entire finger was sliding in and out of him, curling inwards to massage his prostate. “Oh shit,” Mulder muttered drunkenly. Satisfied he was warmed up, she pulled her hand away. A whimper escaped his lips. Was she done already? Then he felt the cool touch of rubber against his rectum and remembered what she had in store for him. Ignoring the impulses to slam her hips forward and fuck him good and hard (the bullet was causing rational thought to decay), Scully penetrated him as slowly as she could manage. Moving in and out with a gentle lento, Scully opened him up. “Oh shit,” Mulder repeated, dazed. Both panted, stimulated by the toys and by their long-repressed desires. The dildo went deeper and deeper into Mulder’s ass. His arms felt weak, he let Scully’s gyrations push him down until only his hips and ass were off the bed. Mulder let out something between a moan and a gasp as Scully buried her plastic cock inside of him completely. She started building a rhythm now, holding onto his hips as her body moved.   
She had done this a couple times with a couple girls, but that was way back, before she joined Bureau even. She tried to remember what it felt like to get fucked, the way that stud in Tucson had moved, the way her dipshit ex with the big cock had fucked her so good they got back together twice, the way Lena had taken her during that strange week last spring. Her hips moved along a circular track, imitating the skewed attitudes of planetary bodies. She worked him slow and steady, every thrust into him pressing the vibrator against her clit and sending fire through her veins. Sweat poured off the two of them as if they might melt into one combined puddle of lust and physical need. Wetness ran down Scully’s thighs. Mulder’s cock bounced in the air, rock hard and dribbling with every press into his seminal gland. He grasped the sheets between his fingers for dear life.  
“Tell me what you want.” Scully’s voice was a hoarse whisper.  
“I want you to fuck me,” Mulder answered, muffled by the bedsheets.  
“Louder,” Scully commanded, punctuating with a thrust.  
“I want you to fuck me.” Mulder lifted his head off of the bed and spoke aloud if slurred. “Fuck me, Scully,” he begged. “Fuck me harder.”  
That was all she needed to hear. Holding him by the thighs, she moved her body with aggression. She pounded him, going in and out as Mulder moaned into her silk pillows. She wasn’t fucking him, she was devastating him, and every moment was rapturous ecstasy. His breath quickened as she angled her body, putting one leg up to dig deeper into his tight asshole with her cock. She built up power and speed until she found the spot, the spot she knew she found when he cried out her name in one broken breath. Lost to agonizing glory, Mulder exploded, his cum shooting across his chest and face and the bed below them. Scully slowed slowly, pumping the last drops out of his cock with her control over him. When it was clear he had no more to give, she pulled out carefully. She let the strapon clatter onto the floor and rolled her partner onto his back. Crawling up the bed, she cleaned him with her tongue, revelling in the taste of their lust’s results. Mulder was still lost in the warm, comforting darkness of subspace, and was only distantly aware of what was happening when he found himself wrapped in a new warmth, namely Scully’s thighs on either side of his head and her dripping cunt hovering over his mouth. Only too happy to oblige, Mulder merely had to keep his tongue pressed upwards into her clit as Scully moved her body against it. Within moments, her cries were louder than his, her thighs threatened to crush his cranium, and he felt a wave of wetness and warmth in his mouth. Shaking, Scully pulled her legs back off of him and collapsed beside him. He cast a curious glance at her, finding her as blushed and sex-drunk as himself. She leaned forward and they kissed, each other’s pleasure on their lips.   
“So,” Mulder said, still panting, “should I call a cab or…?”  
“Shut up, Mulder,” Scully said, wrapping an arm around him and pulling her comforter over their nudity.  
“You got it, Scully,” he said, and closed his eyes, consciousness fading.  
“I said shut up, Mulder,” she said, and fell asleep.


End file.
